Well, not only is the Christmas season here, so is my &#$ken period. Sometimes I am lucky and have a 'visitor' who does not leave a mess in my house - who is very quiet, non- obtrusive, peeks in once and a while to let me know they are there, and then leaves as quickly as they came. Other times, (like this week) I get the fat obnoxious relative that lets everybody know they are there - trumpeting the fact that they are going to stay as long as they want and make life as miserable for me as they possibly can! These are the times that I really don't get excited about being a woman...
So this big obnoxious relative storms into my house, bringing lots and lots of heavy luggage, throwing it around my room like a typhoon hitting a Barbie doll house, doing the 'pop in' at times I least expect them, catching me completely off guard. Once I think I have all my ammunition ready for a certain unwanted encounter, all rules are out the window as the obnoxious relative decides to pull a Kamikaze strike on me while I am sleeping. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This also takes a toll on my body as well - a huge physical toll. My body aches all over, I feel like I have been sat on by my houseguest. I am constantly exhausted and want to hide in the dryer where it is warm and nobody would ever think of looking there. On the 'raw materials' side, I have to call the pharmacy's warehouse and ask them to put aside a shipping container of feminine products just so I can get through the week. I am reminded of a funny episode of Sienfeld when Elaine wants to buy the TODAY sponge, and goes to the last pharmacy and buys out everything that the pharmacist stocks! But unlike Elaine, I don't have the luxury of deciding whether my houseguest is tampon or pad-worthy, I just gotta take care of business...
Monday, November 29, 2004
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Comedy pow wow.
Yesterday, I assembled a handfull of my creative friends at my place to listen to a collection of my comedy skit ideas.
I have been wanting to do this for some time, and seeing how bad the state of Canadian comedy is now, I knew that it was my civic duty to do something about it!
There were 8 of us in total, lots of beer, pot, popcorn, nachos and salsa. It was a good mix. I decided to prime the crowd by watching America's Funniest videos first. E and I had taped them last year and edited out the commercials so we could watch them without interruption at a later date (and when we were stoned). My Pal D was the first to arrive. Before he had a chance to sit down, I popped in my 'famous student film'. It was funny though (I say that in a completely paradoxical way) because my movie (I made it when I was in university and it's about my nervous breakdown at 19...) is quite, well, shall we say, intense? Its a good movie, don't get me wrong, but I had been talking about it for the longest time and really wanted him to see it before the crowd showed up. Well, some 28 minutes later, the experience had ended. He and E just sat on the couch, not saying a word.
"So wasn't that a fun family film!!??"
I was being totally ironic and laughing at myself because it's what I do best, and do to survive. I had lost so much time crying and feeling dead back in those 'seritonin depletion' years...
They were both speechless. I take a great (yet perverse) pleasure in knowing that my film has completely knocked the wind out of those who watch it, and that is what it is supposed to do. It isn't a Disney production of '101 Dalmatians' !
E suggested a smoke, so we all went on the balcony and had some really bad and cheap cigarettes that that bought from the Indian reserve.
Wanting to up the tempo a bit, I found the 'funniest video' tape and popped it in the vcr (YES , I still use a vcr !!). Let me tell you, from the first person being kicked in the nuts to half an hour later of fat people falling off chairs at weddings, the three of us were folded in half, laughing so hard that we were in tears! Laughing is contagious. The harder the people around you laugh, the harder you will too! We went through the '30 hits in 30 seconds' segments where all you see are 3 second clips of people being hit in the head with balls, and their reaction to it. It went by so fast, we had to rewind it about 3 times. By the 4th time, we decided to put the whole thing on 'step' and watch it frame by frame - that was dangerous. I cant remember the last time I had a better abs workout.
The way the body tries to re-balance itself after a blow, is a sight to behold. First there is the impact, then the head absorbs the shock, sometimes snapping and making the same trajectory as the object in motion, and finally, the body starts a graceful contortion which can only be truly appreciated if watched in slow motion: the head goes back, the front of the torso extends forward (as if you were putting out your chest), hence making the back curve like a backwards letter 'C'. The arms begin to extend to the sides, then are raised up above the head and spread gracefully back to the sides again as the body hits the ground. Imagine a evangelistic preacher making the motion of : "PRAISE THE LORD!!". I am sure that every movie and TV show has used that same 'movement' - imagine a person holding a huge balloon over their head. Got that image? Good. Now imagine overweight trailer trash niave people walking right into the oncoming path of a round object coming at them at 40 mph.
It was amazing to see how many people's body reacted the same way, and in slow motion - it was a ballet of the clumsy and absurd. Needless to say, that was the icing on the cake: all ice was broken, low spirits lifted, and the perfect mood set for the night. Within the hour, the rest of the clan began to arrive. We preped them with similar material. Folks - if you want to liven up a party, pop one of those tapes in - it is a guaranteed winner!
Having made sure that all the guest's funny bones were well lubed, I began my shtick something like this:
I have invited you all here because I need some feedback and hopefully some ideas on these skits that I have been accumulating over the years. Some of them are shorts, some of them are 30 second situational absurdities, some of them are in the form of commercials, so please relax, put your thinking caps on and lets get funny!
I did not get a 'rolling in the isles' response that I hoped for some of them, but I told myself that it might be hard to imagine exactly what I am trying to create when so much relies on the visual cues. Some sketches were a big hit though...
The soft horn - for people who use their car horn aggressively, the soft horn is a quiet alternative to reducing noise pollution.
Clip of people before (loud honks, annoying pitches, extended long beeps) and after (the same people but their horns sound like babies giggling, somebody saying 'Excuse Me' softly, or clearing their throat...).
All in all, it was a good night. Looking back at the energy in the room, and the dynamic between all of us, I realized that surrounding myself with individuals that have a comedic way of looking at things and life is really quite a therapy for me. I wish those pharmaceutical companies would work on putting that in a pill...
Thought - The funny pill for adults:
It looks like a prescription capsule, but when you open it, it has a micro mini Kinder toy inside, along with an actual pill to take...
The deadline for this comedy thing is Friday at 5pm - it has to make its way safely down to Toronto before their offices close. If I didn't have some many things to do, and if I was not so broke, I would hand deliver it.
This is how bad I want to win and make this TV show a reality...
Wish me luck.
I will keep you posted.
I have been wanting to do this for some time, and seeing how bad the state of Canadian comedy is now, I knew that it was my civic duty to do something about it!
There were 8 of us in total, lots of beer, pot, popcorn, nachos and salsa. It was a good mix. I decided to prime the crowd by watching America's Funniest videos first. E and I had taped them last year and edited out the commercials so we could watch them without interruption at a later date (and when we were stoned). My Pal D was the first to arrive. Before he had a chance to sit down, I popped in my 'famous student film'. It was funny though (I say that in a completely paradoxical way) because my movie (I made it when I was in university and it's about my nervous breakdown at 19...) is quite, well, shall we say, intense? Its a good movie, don't get me wrong, but I had been talking about it for the longest time and really wanted him to see it before the crowd showed up. Well, some 28 minutes later, the experience had ended. He and E just sat on the couch, not saying a word.
"So wasn't that a fun family film!!??"
I was being totally ironic and laughing at myself because it's what I do best, and do to survive. I had lost so much time crying and feeling dead back in those 'seritonin depletion' years...
They were both speechless. I take a great (yet perverse) pleasure in knowing that my film has completely knocked the wind out of those who watch it, and that is what it is supposed to do. It isn't a Disney production of '101 Dalmatians' !
E suggested a smoke, so we all went on the balcony and had some really bad and cheap cigarettes that that bought from the Indian reserve.
Wanting to up the tempo a bit, I found the 'funniest video' tape and popped it in the vcr (YES , I still use a vcr !!). Let me tell you, from the first person being kicked in the nuts to half an hour later of fat people falling off chairs at weddings, the three of us were folded in half, laughing so hard that we were in tears! Laughing is contagious. The harder the people around you laugh, the harder you will too! We went through the '30 hits in 30 seconds' segments where all you see are 3 second clips of people being hit in the head with balls, and their reaction to it. It went by so fast, we had to rewind it about 3 times. By the 4th time, we decided to put the whole thing on 'step' and watch it frame by frame - that was dangerous. I cant remember the last time I had a better abs workout.
The way the body tries to re-balance itself after a blow, is a sight to behold. First there is the impact, then the head absorbs the shock, sometimes snapping and making the same trajectory as the object in motion, and finally, the body starts a graceful contortion which can only be truly appreciated if watched in slow motion: the head goes back, the front of the torso extends forward (as if you were putting out your chest), hence making the back curve like a backwards letter 'C'. The arms begin to extend to the sides, then are raised up above the head and spread gracefully back to the sides again as the body hits the ground. Imagine a evangelistic preacher making the motion of : "PRAISE THE LORD!!". I am sure that every movie and TV show has used that same 'movement' - imagine a person holding a huge balloon over their head. Got that image? Good. Now imagine overweight trailer trash niave people walking right into the oncoming path of a round object coming at them at 40 mph.
It was amazing to see how many people's body reacted the same way, and in slow motion - it was a ballet of the clumsy and absurd. Needless to say, that was the icing on the cake: all ice was broken, low spirits lifted, and the perfect mood set for the night. Within the hour, the rest of the clan began to arrive. We preped them with similar material. Folks - if you want to liven up a party, pop one of those tapes in - it is a guaranteed winner!
Having made sure that all the guest's funny bones were well lubed, I began my shtick something like this:
I have invited you all here because I need some feedback and hopefully some ideas on these skits that I have been accumulating over the years. Some of them are shorts, some of them are 30 second situational absurdities, some of them are in the form of commercials, so please relax, put your thinking caps on and lets get funny!
I did not get a 'rolling in the isles' response that I hoped for some of them, but I told myself that it might be hard to imagine exactly what I am trying to create when so much relies on the visual cues. Some sketches were a big hit though...
The soft horn - for people who use their car horn aggressively, the soft horn is a quiet alternative to reducing noise pollution.
Clip of people before (loud honks, annoying pitches, extended long beeps) and after (the same people but their horns sound like babies giggling, somebody saying 'Excuse Me' softly, or clearing their throat...).
All in all, it was a good night. Looking back at the energy in the room, and the dynamic between all of us, I realized that surrounding myself with individuals that have a comedic way of looking at things and life is really quite a therapy for me. I wish those pharmaceutical companies would work on putting that in a pill...
Thought - The funny pill for adults:
It looks like a prescription capsule, but when you open it, it has a micro mini Kinder toy inside, along with an actual pill to take...
The deadline for this comedy thing is Friday at 5pm - it has to make its way safely down to Toronto before their offices close. If I didn't have some many things to do, and if I was not so broke, I would hand deliver it.
This is how bad I want to win and make this TV show a reality...
Wish me luck.
I will keep you posted.
Friday, November 26, 2004
One baby step at a time.
I am getting good feedback from this blog.
It is a really good exercise for me - it keeps me disciplined, focused and ads a sense of order to my seemingly disorganized life. I also like the fact that somewhere, on some remote server, this information is being stored, and somewhere, on someone's hard drive lies a link to this site. It brings the web of the world wide internet seem a little more tightly woven and a little less anonymous.
There is a French saying : 'Jamais deux sans trois'.
Oddly enough, there is a similar English saying - "bad things happen in threes'.
Leave it to those stuffy old Anglo Saxons to put a negative spin on things!
Well - yesterday was my day of threes:
My old pal/sis had read my blog and loved it!! (Thanks L!!!) She said:
I carried myself up the stairs, anxious to hit the pillow, I must tell you....I WAS SUDDENLY OVERCOME WITH A BREATHTAKING FEELING...."YOU'RE GONNA BE FAMOUS SIS!"
Wow! That was a sight for sore and bloodshot eyes!
Not that I truly believe in these things, and not that I want to jinx myself (knocking on wood as I type this...) but I was told on more than one occasion by seers and other esoteric folk that I would become successful later on in life - after my 30's. That is nice to know as I push 31... I wish!
Later on in the day I got a message from my sexy Nordic friend A. She had received some pix that I took of myself recently and was incredibly impressed.
"Girl - your stuff is fucken amazing! You gotta get it out there!... You're gonna make it!"
There is nothing that makes a bipolar artiste happier than to hear words like that strung into a sentence. And when it is truly sincere, my serotonin levels rise to a nice level.
Even later on in the same day - bringing our story to the evening, I was on the net chatting with another friend and making plans to meet up for lunch:
"I am really broke, so the only thing I can afford for lunch is a coffee and one munchkin at Tim Horton's"
"Ah you artists!!"
I had made a conscious decision when I decided to make the fine arts my field of exploration and study that I knew there would have to be many sacrifices made - one of them being money. There are so few artistes who are successful enough to make a comfortable living doing what they love to do. Many of us struggle from week to week, trying to keep the dream of being able to change the world through our 'oeuvres' alive; but so many of us become discouraged and exhausted pursuing what seems to be the impossible dream and give up, shelve our creative souls and fall into the anonymity of a 9 to 5 world.
'I know, its a cruel world...'
"but you are going to make it before all of us."
"What do you mean?"
"Your stuff is great --. It's just a matter of time before something happens and you make it big."
Wow.
It is also great for an artist's self esteem to hear that other people value their work. I think it is just a genetic default in evolution that artists will be the first ones to beat themselves up, devalue their creative efforts and self-sabotage any chance at success. Maybe it is not a genetic defect after all. Imagine a world full of artists? Starbucks would have been the new McDonalds, coffee and cigarettes would have been considered as parts of the seven essential food groups, crayons would become our currency, and the average work day would be '9 to whenever you feel like doing something else time'. The world had to be balanced by having some scientific and practical people as well. So this so called 'defect' might be an element in the process of natural selection - survival of the fittest. How many artists do you know that do not struggle to survive???!!!
AS the French would say:
"c'est la vie!".
On the subject of suffering and survival, this beautiful quote, and its relevance to my life, what has happened to me in the past makes it even more inspirational.
In a time of darkness the eye begins to see.
Theodore Roethke
It is a really good exercise for me - it keeps me disciplined, focused and ads a sense of order to my seemingly disorganized life. I also like the fact that somewhere, on some remote server, this information is being stored, and somewhere, on someone's hard drive lies a link to this site. It brings the web of the world wide internet seem a little more tightly woven and a little less anonymous.
There is a French saying : 'Jamais deux sans trois'.
Oddly enough, there is a similar English saying - "bad things happen in threes'.
Leave it to those stuffy old Anglo Saxons to put a negative spin on things!
Well - yesterday was my day of threes:
My old pal/sis had read my blog and loved it!! (Thanks L!!!) She said:
I carried myself up the stairs, anxious to hit the pillow, I must tell you....I WAS SUDDENLY OVERCOME WITH A BREATHTAKING FEELING...."YOU'RE GONNA BE FAMOUS SIS!"
Wow! That was a sight for sore and bloodshot eyes!
Not that I truly believe in these things, and not that I want to jinx myself (knocking on wood as I type this...) but I was told on more than one occasion by seers and other esoteric folk that I would become successful later on in life - after my 30's. That is nice to know as I push 31... I wish!
Later on in the day I got a message from my sexy Nordic friend A. She had received some pix that I took of myself recently and was incredibly impressed.
"Girl - your stuff is fucken amazing! You gotta get it out there!... You're gonna make it!"
There is nothing that makes a bipolar artiste happier than to hear words like that strung into a sentence. And when it is truly sincere, my serotonin levels rise to a nice level.
Even later on in the same day - bringing our story to the evening, I was on the net chatting with another friend and making plans to meet up for lunch:
"I am really broke, so the only thing I can afford for lunch is a coffee and one munchkin at Tim Horton's"
"Ah you artists!!"
I had made a conscious decision when I decided to make the fine arts my field of exploration and study that I knew there would have to be many sacrifices made - one of them being money. There are so few artistes who are successful enough to make a comfortable living doing what they love to do. Many of us struggle from week to week, trying to keep the dream of being able to change the world through our 'oeuvres' alive; but so many of us become discouraged and exhausted pursuing what seems to be the impossible dream and give up, shelve our creative souls and fall into the anonymity of a 9 to 5 world.
'I know, its a cruel world...'
"but you are going to make it before all of us."
"What do you mean?"
"Your stuff is great --. It's just a matter of time before something happens and you make it big."
Wow.
It is also great for an artist's self esteem to hear that other people value their work. I think it is just a genetic default in evolution that artists will be the first ones to beat themselves up, devalue their creative efforts and self-sabotage any chance at success. Maybe it is not a genetic defect after all. Imagine a world full of artists? Starbucks would have been the new McDonalds, coffee and cigarettes would have been considered as parts of the seven essential food groups, crayons would become our currency, and the average work day would be '9 to whenever you feel like doing something else time'. The world had to be balanced by having some scientific and practical people as well. So this so called 'defect' might be an element in the process of natural selection - survival of the fittest. How many artists do you know that do not struggle to survive???!!!
AS the French would say:
"c'est la vie!".
On the subject of suffering and survival, this beautiful quote, and its relevance to my life, what has happened to me in the past makes it even more inspirational.
In a time of darkness the eye begins to see.
Theodore Roethke
Thursday, November 25, 2004
At a mall near you!
AHHH!!
I just got a call from my galpal B and she said that the photo I took of the 'boot shoot from hell' is up!!! She was in Ille Perrot and came face to face with a lifesize poster of it! It was 9am (which was uncharacteristically early for both of us) but she wanted me to know!!
So all of you who are in Canada - look out for it! It won't be up much longer, so catch it before it disappears! I have to make my mall rounds as well and take digital pics for my files! I am sooo pumped!
I just got a call from my galpal B and she said that the photo I took of the 'boot shoot from hell' is up!!! She was in Ille Perrot and came face to face with a lifesize poster of it! It was 9am (which was uncharacteristically early for both of us) but she wanted me to know!!
So all of you who are in Canada - look out for it! It won't be up much longer, so catch it before it disappears! I have to make my mall rounds as well and take digital pics for my files! I am sooo pumped!
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
This was taken at the Green Spot diner on Notre Dame near the Atwater market. My friend B and I thought these old music booth thingamajigs were cool. I didnt realize until now that you can almost see her face in the top right corner. Gee, I wonder what I can get for this if I try to sell it on Ebay. It may not be the Hail Mary in a grilled cheeze sandwitch, but it sure is cool (and paradoxical cause she is a musician...) Ohhhh... Yet another cosmic zinger... 
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
20 Years later...
So here I am, sick as a sick dog but still gleaming from Saturday night. I can't even begin to go on about how amazing it was, what a rush I felt that even thought 20 years had passed between seeing all my old friends, it seemed like it was just yesterday we spoke. Within a few minutes and formalities out of the way, we were able to get right back on track as if no time had passed at all... It was one of those monumental events that change a person, and I have been changed in such a wonderful magical way...
Funny thing - it seems that my group of gal pals were the 'popular group' in the last years of high school! This comes as news to me because I was always the wall flower until I met these girls - one in particular who 'adopted me' into her Von Trapp like musical/multi talented Italian extended family. I became her 'sis' and through her help, I came out of my shell and turned into a real butterfly just in time for my grad and 16th birthday. It was a rite of passage that, thanks to her, made me a large part of who I am today. But I digress... That is the subject of a whole other blog!!!
So when I walked into the hall, I heard my name being called in quadraphonic sound followed by a a loud: "Sis!!!". I knew it was her. While I was signing in, getting my nametag and photo taken, she yanked me to the side. We hugged, jumped up and down and screamed in unison: "YOU LOOK SO AMAZING! YOU HAVE NOT CHANGED!! OH MY GOD!!!". It was the quintessential moment which set the precedent for the rest of the night which was filled with sweet reminiscing of the good old days, memories of stupid incidental things we did to waste time during lunch hour, catching up on how many kids, divorces, houses, jobs had passed through our lives over the years. My 30 seconds or less shpeil was: I am not married, but have been living with him for 6 years, we rent a house - don't own, no kids - but two cats, and am a filmmaker and photographer. I got allot of laughs from that.
There were quite a few times that I had to look at the nametag of the person to make sure that it was who I remembered them to be - I equate the experience to finding a watch that you believed lost, only to find it behind the couch a year later. There were quite a few people with glazed eyes and huge smiles on their faces. And part of every reunion, there were a few 'ugly duckling to swan' stories; the most dramatic being one guy that I had known from grade school, whom many of us pegged as - having the best "bowl on the head/I am a geek' haircut 10 years in a row. While we were in the midst of taking a group photo (all 130 of us), I see this tall, built, and quite handsome guy walking in.
Who the hell is that and is he really part of my class??
He began to wave and smile at me. I waved back and smiled, turning to my 'sis' : "who in God's name is that?"
"Oh - that's --. They used to call him 'slim' remember?"
I didn't, but I wished that I did.
As the crowd congealed into one huge lumpy mass of laughter and chatter, I cranked my neck around and took in the whole scene. Time is such an incidental thing - I thought. People may change on the outside, perhaps to a certain measure on the inside, but our core, our essence of our being stays the same. What a marvel of humanity - how such a thing can stay so constant over such a long period of time and physical, emotional and geographical evolution.
And for that moment, I was deeply moved. You can see it in my smile in the photo - front and center, as usual ! LOL!
So the parade of food came in on time, but I found it bizarre how the DJ played dance music the whole dinner. I lost count how many plates of Bow pasta in a Rosé sauce sat untouched on each table! I was starving and I am glad I ate all of my meals too. It was all the starch that saved my stomach and reputation at the open bar later on that night. I could go on for hours, but I will spare you the sucky details of my reminiscing (which would only be relevant to me and the 130 others that were in attendance that night), but in summation, the whole event was something that everybody should experience at least once in a lifetime. So the next time you receive an invitation to your class reunion, don't throw it away. Don't beat yourself up by saying: "Why should I go?" or "I have not done enough in my life to want to face up to these people again, with all their houses, and kids and great jobs..." . Chances are, they are all saying the same things themselves about you! We only go around once in this trip called 'life', sometimes you have to bite the bullet, fear the fear and do it anyway and take chances. 20 years goes by so incredibly fast and regrets for things not done, opportunities not taken are the poisons of time and life.
On a closing note (which I find so completely appropriate to this blog), I met my old English teacher again. A little weaker for wear, but still as sweet as ever, he recognized me right away. 'Hi there --! Are you still writing?"
I used to love his classes. It was thanks to him that I continued in the craft; his inspiration and belief in my talent as a writer are the reasons why I am now doing what I love as part of my living.
"Of course! It was thanks to you that I went into writing and script writing today! I am entering a contest for the Comedy Network this month! I plan to make a skit comedy show! You may not know it, and perhaps I never told you, but you inspired me! Thanks to you I am doing what I have always wanted to do! "
A smile appeared from ear to ear. I think I actually managed to make him a bit shy. "Why thank you --. That is very wonderful to hear, but I always knew you had it in you to do great things..."
So I dedicate this blog to you Mr. Dugas, and to you, my 'sis' Lucy. Thank you for believing in a kid, who, for the longest time, didn't even believe in herself.
Funny thing - it seems that my group of gal pals were the 'popular group' in the last years of high school! This comes as news to me because I was always the wall flower until I met these girls - one in particular who 'adopted me' into her Von Trapp like musical/multi talented Italian extended family. I became her 'sis' and through her help, I came out of my shell and turned into a real butterfly just in time for my grad and 16th birthday. It was a rite of passage that, thanks to her, made me a large part of who I am today. But I digress... That is the subject of a whole other blog!!!
So when I walked into the hall, I heard my name being called in quadraphonic sound followed by a a loud: "Sis!!!". I knew it was her. While I was signing in, getting my nametag and photo taken, she yanked me to the side. We hugged, jumped up and down and screamed in unison: "YOU LOOK SO AMAZING! YOU HAVE NOT CHANGED!! OH MY GOD!!!". It was the quintessential moment which set the precedent for the rest of the night which was filled with sweet reminiscing of the good old days, memories of stupid incidental things we did to waste time during lunch hour, catching up on how many kids, divorces, houses, jobs had passed through our lives over the years. My 30 seconds or less shpeil was: I am not married, but have been living with him for 6 years, we rent a house - don't own, no kids - but two cats, and am a filmmaker and photographer. I got allot of laughs from that.
There were quite a few times that I had to look at the nametag of the person to make sure that it was who I remembered them to be - I equate the experience to finding a watch that you believed lost, only to find it behind the couch a year later. There were quite a few people with glazed eyes and huge smiles on their faces. And part of every reunion, there were a few 'ugly duckling to swan' stories; the most dramatic being one guy that I had known from grade school, whom many of us pegged as - having the best "bowl on the head/I am a geek' haircut 10 years in a row. While we were in the midst of taking a group photo (all 130 of us), I see this tall, built, and quite handsome guy walking in.
Who the hell is that and is he really part of my class??
He began to wave and smile at me. I waved back and smiled, turning to my 'sis' : "who in God's name is that?"
"Oh - that's --. They used to call him 'slim' remember?"
I didn't, but I wished that I did.
As the crowd congealed into one huge lumpy mass of laughter and chatter, I cranked my neck around and took in the whole scene. Time is such an incidental thing - I thought. People may change on the outside, perhaps to a certain measure on the inside, but our core, our essence of our being stays the same. What a marvel of humanity - how such a thing can stay so constant over such a long period of time and physical, emotional and geographical evolution.
And for that moment, I was deeply moved. You can see it in my smile in the photo - front and center, as usual ! LOL!
So the parade of food came in on time, but I found it bizarre how the DJ played dance music the whole dinner. I lost count how many plates of Bow pasta in a Rosé sauce sat untouched on each table! I was starving and I am glad I ate all of my meals too. It was all the starch that saved my stomach and reputation at the open bar later on that night. I could go on for hours, but I will spare you the sucky details of my reminiscing (which would only be relevant to me and the 130 others that were in attendance that night), but in summation, the whole event was something that everybody should experience at least once in a lifetime. So the next time you receive an invitation to your class reunion, don't throw it away. Don't beat yourself up by saying: "Why should I go?" or "I have not done enough in my life to want to face up to these people again, with all their houses, and kids and great jobs..." . Chances are, they are all saying the same things themselves about you! We only go around once in this trip called 'life', sometimes you have to bite the bullet, fear the fear and do it anyway and take chances. 20 years goes by so incredibly fast and regrets for things not done, opportunities not taken are the poisons of time and life.
On a closing note (which I find so completely appropriate to this blog), I met my old English teacher again. A little weaker for wear, but still as sweet as ever, he recognized me right away. 'Hi there --! Are you still writing?"
I used to love his classes. It was thanks to him that I continued in the craft; his inspiration and belief in my talent as a writer are the reasons why I am now doing what I love as part of my living.
"Of course! It was thanks to you that I went into writing and script writing today! I am entering a contest for the Comedy Network this month! I plan to make a skit comedy show! You may not know it, and perhaps I never told you, but you inspired me! Thanks to you I am doing what I have always wanted to do! "
A smile appeared from ear to ear. I think I actually managed to make him a bit shy. "Why thank you --. That is very wonderful to hear, but I always knew you had it in you to do great things..."
So I dedicate this blog to you Mr. Dugas, and to you, my 'sis' Lucy. Thank you for believing in a kid, who, for the longest time, didn't even believe in herself.
Friday, November 19, 2004
It's been 20 years...
Last night I had the best surprise - a friend who was my buddy, my 'sister' called me to confirm the seating arrangements for the 20th anniversary high school reunion. We had been in email contact for the last 2 months, but had not spoken in 20 years!! It was soo weird - weird in a good way though - I was surprised that we spoke and laughed like we had just spoken on the phone yesterday! It was always so easy to talk to her, and I kind of dreaded the awkward 'catching up' thing ("so what have you been doing? Really? You married? How many kids?...") but it was so natural. I think that a true friend is someone you never fall out of touch with, no matter the distance or time that has passed between the two of you.
So she gave me the scoop on who is going to be there, who is not, who is married, divorced...
"You know, after 20 years you would think that some of these stupid 'cliques' we had in high school would have worn off, but you would be surprised!"
Just the way people rubberneck at accidents on the highway, I cant wait to see how these pockets of 'cliques' are going to pan out in 'real time' 20 years later...
"And there are some guys that when I told them about you say: 'I wish I would have asked her out when I had a chance..." I laugh because had these guys actually owned a set of balls, they might have been with you now!"
That is going to be sooo strange. Seeing somebody 20 years later and have them say to your face things that went unspoken and just faded away with time. Its going to be sooo strange, but I intend to have fun and make this a memorable night (staying sober and not being a homewrecker cause I am sure this night is going to be full of incidences like that!)!
So Saturday at 5pm, the fun begins...
I slept all day today - my body ached so much I could not move. My head was stuffed and throat was like an unpaved country road. I was miserable. I missed two days of film festiavaling which made the day seem that much longer. This is a flu. It has hit full force. Throw PMS in the mix and you have one hell of a mean bitch on wheels!
I thought this was so cute - my friend told me that even though he has not known me for long, he thought that I was "quite interesting and fun" during this, my 'week from hell'. I guess I have an interesting flipside - more introspective, (more sensitive - a good thing/bad thing), more loopy (which is always good for laughs when I forget what I said 2 minutes ago...) and at times, calmer. That was really sweet. I know he was being honest because he is a no bullshit type of guy. It's funny - PMS is considered to be the monster of all monsters, but to this flipside, something positive.
Thanks D. ;-)
That was the first time anybody has ever said that to me.
So she gave me the scoop on who is going to be there, who is not, who is married, divorced...
"You know, after 20 years you would think that some of these stupid 'cliques' we had in high school would have worn off, but you would be surprised!"
Just the way people rubberneck at accidents on the highway, I cant wait to see how these pockets of 'cliques' are going to pan out in 'real time' 20 years later...
"And there are some guys that when I told them about you say: 'I wish I would have asked her out when I had a chance..." I laugh because had these guys actually owned a set of balls, they might have been with you now!"
That is going to be sooo strange. Seeing somebody 20 years later and have them say to your face things that went unspoken and just faded away with time. Its going to be sooo strange, but I intend to have fun and make this a memorable night (staying sober and not being a homewrecker cause I am sure this night is going to be full of incidences like that!)!
So Saturday at 5pm, the fun begins...
I slept all day today - my body ached so much I could not move. My head was stuffed and throat was like an unpaved country road. I was miserable. I missed two days of film festiavaling which made the day seem that much longer. This is a flu. It has hit full force. Throw PMS in the mix and you have one hell of a mean bitch on wheels!
I thought this was so cute - my friend told me that even though he has not known me for long, he thought that I was "quite interesting and fun" during this, my 'week from hell'. I guess I have an interesting flipside - more introspective, (more sensitive - a good thing/bad thing), more loopy (which is always good for laughs when I forget what I said 2 minutes ago...) and at times, calmer. That was really sweet. I know he was being honest because he is a no bullshit type of guy. It's funny - PMS is considered to be the monster of all monsters, but to this flipside, something positive.
Thanks D. ;-)
That was the first time anybody has ever said that to me.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
On the lead wings of a butterfly.
My body feels like an anvil - those cartoon anvils that fall from the sky and flatten Daffy Duck or the Coyote in the Bugs Bunny Cartoons. My arms feel like they are made of lead, yet move so effortlessly like a butterfly. I am soo sick. I cant remember the last time I was this sick.
My head feels like it is stuffed with Pampers and I am talking through a mouthful of cotton.
I missed an important meeting today with this producer/founder of DOCSPACE - a heavy duty group that is on the cutting edge of a revolution of making simulcast movies across the world a reality. I am soo upset that I had to miss it.
I too feel that I have missed my day.
Time snagged and suspended in phlegm.
Yea, its gross but that is such an accurate analogy.
My head feels like it is stuffed with Pampers and I am talking through a mouthful of cotton.
I missed an important meeting today with this producer/founder of DOCSPACE - a heavy duty group that is on the cutting edge of a revolution of making simulcast movies across the world a reality. I am soo upset that I had to miss it.
I too feel that I have missed my day.
Time snagged and suspended in phlegm.
Yea, its gross but that is such an accurate analogy.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Yes Virginia, there ARE no coincidences....
This came from a friend of mine who (thank you F.!!) read my blog from yesterday:
For the record, I disagree with you; there are tons of coincidences around us every day. Sometimes we notice them, sometimes we don't. What strikes us as an extraordinary coincidence is the fact that, that day, you noticed it. But what about all the other days where a coincidence could have happened but you never noticed (ex. A friend passing by that you didn't notice). The thing is, we don't know about those coincidences even though they happen. I know, I know, you must be thinking, well that's not as fun but your brain is telling you I am probably right - lol
True, very true..
But I replied with this:
My question to you is: why are we more aware of certain coincidences and not others? Why are the ones we stumble upon, stumbled upon??
For the record, I disagree with you; there are tons of coincidences around us every day. Sometimes we notice them, sometimes we don't. What strikes us as an extraordinary coincidence is the fact that, that day, you noticed it. But what about all the other days where a coincidence could have happened but you never noticed (ex. A friend passing by that you didn't notice). The thing is, we don't know about those coincidences even though they happen. I know, I know, you must be thinking, well that's not as fun but your brain is telling you I am probably right - lol
True, very true..
But I replied with this:
My question to you is: why are we more aware of certain coincidences and not others? Why are the ones we stumble upon, stumbled upon??
Monday, November 15, 2004
Giovanni Battista Pergolesi... Why do you continue to haunt me??
Another weird thing (I can hear Leonard Nemoy's voice begin in the background...) - this man continues to haunt. And it is such a sad thing to hear that his life was cut so short at the tender age of 26...
http://earlymusic.com.sapo.pt/pergolesi.htm
http://earlymusic.com.sapo.pt/pergolesi.htm
There ARE no coincidences...
Okay - my life has graduated from a Sienfeld episode to an X file...
This coincidence stuff is just getting too fucken weird.
Please allow me to explain(er...uh... rant)
I had that weird experience/coincidence with:
That choral/Pergolesi thing (see about all of this hubbub below)
That crazy funny song (You sexy thing - WHICH BY THE WAY - is very unbelievablely connected as I was telling a friend about it today, and midway through the story, mid syllable of the song title she says to me:
OH MY GOD!! My cousin used that very song in her wedding speech! She sampled those lyrics with the music and inserted it into her monologue! Now how fucken wild is that??!"
Tell me about it sister...
SO!
Then there is the other day when I received this email/classified job email, which I usually delete, and was pissed off because I received the same email 4 times, took the time to read it to the bottom only to see a call for submissions/pitches for the Comedy Network which are having a contest to 'Pitch your best Comedy Show idea!" Winner gets $5000 and a contract, and pilot for the show with the Comedy Network. And those of you who know me know that I have been throwing around this idea for more than 10 years now. And what makes it so creepy is the day before, I reminded myself to email a friend so we could actually get a jump on this project together ASAP because I had hit a creative streak...
Flipped out there.
Today, I was on my way to the docu film festival (Ron Mann is going to be talking and showing his amazing hysterical Documentary called Grass : http://www.sphinxproductions.com/pages/film_grass.html
and I pick up those stupid metro magazines again because it was being shoved in my face on my way into the metro, and low and behold, I am thinking... "Must call my crazy likeminded outrageous dude pal about doing that comedy contest! He should be getting his work email this morning!" And as I am flipping through the cheaply inked pages, I see his picture and a whole article on him. I almost lost my fucken breakfast all over myself. I think I turned a shade of transparent cause the woman in the seat next to me was ready to let me take her place. I shook for about 20 minutes after that incident.
NOW HOW FUCKEN WEIRD IS THAT!??!
THEN!! (yes everybody, it does get more bizarre)
I got to the doc film symposium with my gal pal, we take notes, listen to the surprisingly promising news about the renewed interest and renaissance period of documentary films recently, and then we hear some of the filmmakers share their wisdom with us. One in particular blew me away - and seemed to have taken the same route as I am currently. Odd of odd is that he was a photographer and was mentored by Paul Strand and ended up making a documentary about him. I love Paul Strand, so hearing this was such music to my ears.
My GP (gal pal) B. and I stood on the sidelines after lunch and waited to ask him some questions. It was a pretty funny sight - we looked like two film groupies as we watched and waited in the distance as he finished up a conversation with an admiring fan. So when he came by (we were going to trip and wrestle him to the ground, but thought a more subtle approach would work better) we introduced ourselves and I went into my spheil about photography, cinematography and making movies. In the end, we had a nice chat, and very subtly asked him if he would look at my pix and my documentary proposals and perhaps would be interested in (mentoring me) co-producing them at some later date. I love to shmooze and am such an eloquent social slutty kick ass butterfly sometimes... I had remembered to put on my Teflon underwear this morning.
So 5 hours later, the thing is wrapping up and closing comments are being said. The usual lame questions from the audience are tossed around and I decide to bring to light a European model where this brilliant organization simultaneously broadcasts across 8 countries in more than 500 theatres, first time or underground doc film makers. I asked "if it took only 3 years to get this off the ground, and it is across 8 countries, why don't we, one country, have a thing like this in Canada???" From the Anglophones in the audience that understood my question, clapped in agreement. I was quickly silenced by some corporate bimbo who gave me a 2 cent answer and proceeded to go onto the next question. I was really pissed.
So low and behold - I am outside with GPB. and we are talking about that very moment, and this woman who's personality was so vibrant, she was shaking the whole whole building, came up to us and said :" I am so happy somebody knew about this!! We had the premier last week and it was a smashing success!"
She spoke at a million miles and hour in a heavy French/Swiss accent telling me all about this organization. The clincher is....
She is one of the founders/organizers/producers/directors/ of this whole trans Euro thing.
She is also the producer of a phenomenal documentary film called : Fellini - I Am A Born Liar. Could I not be more stunned! First of all - connecting with someone who is involved with something this huge, and the fact that I LOVE FELLINI!!! So we both zoomed through our conversations at now, a billion miles an hour, and upon suggestion of exchanging emails, she said - 'well, lets have coffee Wednesday morning! I would love to talk to you about this!!"
So practically falling over in a state of shock, me and GPB were sitting there after she left, our mouths hanging open, catching files.
"Girl, this whole day is one big coincidence for you is it not? WOW!"
I call my cell phone to see what messages I had.
There is a clip of a French version of a love song from Brian Adams. A 45 second clip and it ends. Tried to *69 - number unknown.
??????Can this get any more bizarre???
HELL YES!!!!!
We go to buy tickets and I feel this tap on my shoulder. It is my my brilliant filmmaker friend Mahmoud Kaäbour. I had not seem him in ages and was thinking just the other day; "I must email Mah - it's been ages!" So already wired on my day, I hop around happier and more surprised that a pig in shit and say: "OH MY GOD!! WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT YOU NOT % MINUTES AGO!!" And that was no lie - cause that Electric Euro Franco/Swiss had just mentioned going to see it, and I said "Oh yea! Its a great film and I know him!!" I only realized on my way home that he must have wondered why I was that happy and surprised to see him.
So we bla bla again - and we said we'd be in touch "Email me!!" seems to be the standard 'goodbye' these days...
So me and GPB sit down and pull out our festival maps. Looking like total festival geeks (or people in the industry) we are furiously circling and crossing off films that we will see...
"You know I saw this great film last here called Nosotros - about the Argentinean people and their beautiful sense of pride in the Tango. GPB, being a huge fan of Tango said: "Oh! I would love to see it!!"
"It was great! Last year, I went up to him after the screening, I talked to him about his film, we went for coffee, ran into each other during the fest, went out for beers, and was his guest for the 'Film Festival Party'! It was a scream!"
We laughed, but I quickly became silent as I shuffled through the mountain of promo flyers and press releases floating around the lobby...
"Nosotros" - Diego Martinez - February 21, 2005 - Rencontres International Du Documentaires du Montreal.
I just moved the flyer over with my finger on the date and said nothing.
We just looked at each other in stunned silence for about 30 seconds and then burst out into hysterical laughter...
Needless to say, on my way home, I had to stop to get a 6/49 for Wednesday....
I'll keep you posted...
This coincidence stuff is just getting too fucken weird.
Please allow me to explain(er...uh... rant)
I had that weird experience/coincidence with:
That choral/Pergolesi thing (see about all of this hubbub below)
That crazy funny song (You sexy thing - WHICH BY THE WAY - is very unbelievablely connected as I was telling a friend about it today, and midway through the story, mid syllable of the song title she says to me:
OH MY GOD!! My cousin used that very song in her wedding speech! She sampled those lyrics with the music and inserted it into her monologue! Now how fucken wild is that??!"
Tell me about it sister...
SO!
Then there is the other day when I received this email/classified job email, which I usually delete, and was pissed off because I received the same email 4 times, took the time to read it to the bottom only to see a call for submissions/pitches for the Comedy Network which are having a contest to 'Pitch your best Comedy Show idea!" Winner gets $5000 and a contract, and pilot for the show with the Comedy Network. And those of you who know me know that I have been throwing around this idea for more than 10 years now. And what makes it so creepy is the day before, I reminded myself to email a friend so we could actually get a jump on this project together ASAP because I had hit a creative streak...
Flipped out there.
Today, I was on my way to the docu film festival (Ron Mann is going to be talking and showing his amazing hysterical Documentary called Grass : http://www.sphinxproductions.com/pages/film_grass.html
and I pick up those stupid metro magazines again because it was being shoved in my face on my way into the metro, and low and behold, I am thinking... "Must call my crazy likeminded outrageous dude pal about doing that comedy contest! He should be getting his work email this morning!" And as I am flipping through the cheaply inked pages, I see his picture and a whole article on him. I almost lost my fucken breakfast all over myself. I think I turned a shade of transparent cause the woman in the seat next to me was ready to let me take her place. I shook for about 20 minutes after that incident.
NOW HOW FUCKEN WEIRD IS THAT!??!
THEN!! (yes everybody, it does get more bizarre)
I got to the doc film symposium with my gal pal, we take notes, listen to the surprisingly promising news about the renewed interest and renaissance period of documentary films recently, and then we hear some of the filmmakers share their wisdom with us. One in particular blew me away - and seemed to have taken the same route as I am currently. Odd of odd is that he was a photographer and was mentored by Paul Strand and ended up making a documentary about him. I love Paul Strand, so hearing this was such music to my ears.
My GP (gal pal) B. and I stood on the sidelines after lunch and waited to ask him some questions. It was a pretty funny sight - we looked like two film groupies as we watched and waited in the distance as he finished up a conversation with an admiring fan. So when he came by (we were going to trip and wrestle him to the ground, but thought a more subtle approach would work better) we introduced ourselves and I went into my spheil about photography, cinematography and making movies. In the end, we had a nice chat, and very subtly asked him if he would look at my pix and my documentary proposals and perhaps would be interested in (mentoring me) co-producing them at some later date. I love to shmooze and am such an eloquent social slutty kick ass butterfly sometimes... I had remembered to put on my Teflon underwear this morning.
So 5 hours later, the thing is wrapping up and closing comments are being said. The usual lame questions from the audience are tossed around and I decide to bring to light a European model where this brilliant organization simultaneously broadcasts across 8 countries in more than 500 theatres, first time or underground doc film makers. I asked "if it took only 3 years to get this off the ground, and it is across 8 countries, why don't we, one country, have a thing like this in Canada???" From the Anglophones in the audience that understood my question, clapped in agreement. I was quickly silenced by some corporate bimbo who gave me a 2 cent answer and proceeded to go onto the next question. I was really pissed.
So low and behold - I am outside with GPB. and we are talking about that very moment, and this woman who's personality was so vibrant, she was shaking the whole whole building, came up to us and said :" I am so happy somebody knew about this!! We had the premier last week and it was a smashing success!"
She spoke at a million miles and hour in a heavy French/Swiss accent telling me all about this organization. The clincher is....
She is one of the founders/organizers/producers/directors/ of this whole trans Euro thing.
She is also the producer of a phenomenal documentary film called : Fellini - I Am A Born Liar. Could I not be more stunned! First of all - connecting with someone who is involved with something this huge, and the fact that I LOVE FELLINI!!! So we both zoomed through our conversations at now, a billion miles an hour, and upon suggestion of exchanging emails, she said - 'well, lets have coffee Wednesday morning! I would love to talk to you about this!!"
So practically falling over in a state of shock, me and GPB were sitting there after she left, our mouths hanging open, catching files.
"Girl, this whole day is one big coincidence for you is it not? WOW!"
I call my cell phone to see what messages I had.
There is a clip of a French version of a love song from Brian Adams. A 45 second clip and it ends. Tried to *69 - number unknown.
??????Can this get any more bizarre???
HELL YES!!!!!
We go to buy tickets and I feel this tap on my shoulder. It is my my brilliant filmmaker friend Mahmoud Kaäbour. I had not seem him in ages and was thinking just the other day; "I must email Mah - it's been ages!" So already wired on my day, I hop around happier and more surprised that a pig in shit and say: "OH MY GOD!! WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT YOU NOT % MINUTES AGO!!" And that was no lie - cause that Electric Euro Franco/Swiss had just mentioned going to see it, and I said "Oh yea! Its a great film and I know him!!" I only realized on my way home that he must have wondered why I was that happy and surprised to see him.
So we bla bla again - and we said we'd be in touch "Email me!!" seems to be the standard 'goodbye' these days...
So me and GPB sit down and pull out our festival maps. Looking like total festival geeks (or people in the industry) we are furiously circling and crossing off films that we will see...
"You know I saw this great film last here called Nosotros - about the Argentinean people and their beautiful sense of pride in the Tango. GPB, being a huge fan of Tango said: "Oh! I would love to see it!!"
"It was great! Last year, I went up to him after the screening, I talked to him about his film, we went for coffee, ran into each other during the fest, went out for beers, and was his guest for the 'Film Festival Party'! It was a scream!"
We laughed, but I quickly became silent as I shuffled through the mountain of promo flyers and press releases floating around the lobby...
"Nosotros" - Diego Martinez - February 21, 2005 - Rencontres International Du Documentaires du Montreal.
I just moved the flyer over with my finger on the date and said nothing.
We just looked at each other in stunned silence for about 30 seconds and then burst out into hysterical laughter...
Needless to say, on my way home, I had to stop to get a 6/49 for Wednesday....
I'll keep you posted...
Sunday, November 14, 2004
The PMS monster and her army.
Its coming.
I can feel it.
The troops are amassing in my ovaries and plotting their strategic slide down the tubes of Fallopian.
It has already reared its ugly head.
The knee-jerk weeping, the super sense of smell, the high libido...
The PMS monster is growing inside of me. There is little I can do about it but to observe, know when to step in and be a referee. I can hear the march of her army.
Note to self: for the next 7 days, stay in a padded cell, eat lots of chocolate, salt and vinegar chips, watch alot of Flintstones episodes and have a huge supply of Clearasil. Must steer clear of sharp objects, ledges and cliffs, wear a full padded body crash suit and most important - extricate myself from any and all situations where I might be caught off guard.
I can become defenseless and can be destroyed in a single monosyllabic swipe of an offhand comment or a comment not spoken but anticipated.
Hopefully, I will come out alive and in one piece...
I can feel it.
The troops are amassing in my ovaries and plotting their strategic slide down the tubes of Fallopian.
It has already reared its ugly head.
The knee-jerk weeping, the super sense of smell, the high libido...
The PMS monster is growing inside of me. There is little I can do about it but to observe, know when to step in and be a referee. I can hear the march of her army.
Note to self: for the next 7 days, stay in a padded cell, eat lots of chocolate, salt and vinegar chips, watch alot of Flintstones episodes and have a huge supply of Clearasil. Must steer clear of sharp objects, ledges and cliffs, wear a full padded body crash suit and most important - extricate myself from any and all situations where I might be caught off guard.
I can become defenseless and can be destroyed in a single monosyllabic swipe of an offhand comment or a comment not spoken but anticipated.
Hopefully, I will come out alive and in one piece...
Stabat Mater, Monsieur Hot Dog and other strange coincidneces...
Just got back from the recital - the famous (well for me that is) the Stabat Mater by Pergolesi. It was phenomenal! I actually shed a tear when the duo sang the first part of the piece. The whole thing was mind-blowing - the ambience of this gigantic church, the low lights and candles casting an orange glow, the faint smell of incense in the air, the cathedral ceilings arched above my head gracefully, covered in Latin script and softly brushed clouds. The acoustics also added an element to the whole 'piety' of the experience: the harmonics crisp and strong, the tenor's voice reverberating through the pews. I closed my eyes for that one particular piece and began to envision the whole scene from my film: each detail, each movement, was there in front of my 'mental cinema screen'. It was quite breathtaking, so real. I was there...
The mother lifts the boy from his small bed. His fever is rising quickly. Tossing his head furiously side to side, he moans in a weak voice:
"Mother, mother, please help me, help me.
Mother, I see only darkness now. Save me from the darkness.
I am afraid. Please do not leave me alone mother. Please do not leave me..."
She rushes through the wooden doors of the kitchen. . Her long petticoat floats behind her gracefully as she struggles to keep her balance, running through the lush green meadow with the limp child in her arms - his body gracefully draped like a velvet curtain to her chest.
(Begin the Stabat Mater first movement - Duet)
Stabat Mater dolorosa, iuxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius
At, the Cross, her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last.
She is rushing towards the small pond - hoping that the water might bring his fever down. Ankle deep she wades through tall grass and bogs, bending down slowly, carefully. His loose arms and legs skim the top of the water. She bends down on her knees and immerses his whole body, keeping his head buoyant in her arms. Their clothes float effortlessly around them. Taking water with her hand, she sprinkles it over his face, and pushes back his now matted hair. Her weeping voice echoes off the pond, filling the summer air.
She whispers into her son's ear, tries to evoke a response from him, takes his fragile arm and lifts it to her face, kissing his tiny hand. The rain begins to fall gently on their already soaked skin and clothes.
In the distance, the father slowly walks to the door and pauses. His eyes are heavy, but are filled with a sad yet resigned stare, a resignation deep within.
As the rain begins to fall harder, the mother tries desperately to revive her now quickly dying child. Her clothes begin to weigh heavy on her body. Strands of wet hair cling to her bare neck and flushed cheeks.
The two sisters are seen running through the house and to the back door. They look into the distance with fear and trepidation. The father stands between them – his thick arms holding each one back. In between tears and shouts, their bodies slowly become limp as they begin to weep helplessly, knowing that there is nothing more that can be done to save their brother and that their mother must now too realize this herself.
The rain beats down furiously on the mother and the child in her arms. She looks at his sullen face, begging him for one last breath, one last look into her eyes.
Barely moving his tiny lips, he whispers:
"I am not afraid anymore mother…"
His eyes close slowly.
The mother lowers her head. Her body begins to shake as she beings to cry louder and harder. She lifts his lifeless body out of the water and rests his head and shoulders over her bent knee. Looking up to the sky, her tears and rain stream down her face as she begins to scream.
(Phew! Shit that was long!!)
So anyway –that is the scene in my movie set in the 17th century – a co-production with France and Italy and Canada about a young girl who wants to be a singer but cant because she is a girl… Bla bla bla.
But back to the original train of thought here – the recital was beautiful, and it was kinda spiritually cleansing, rejuvenation type of thing. Maybe it was peace – that is what I found there. Peace with myself and my vision for my ideas (movies). Oddly enough – I had my camera with me and took some pix. As I was leaving a girl came up to me and asked me what I do for a living. (I am a starving artist honey!!) She was all happy that I took photos of her work and art direction because she was so worried about this evening that she forgot to bring a camera to take photos of her stuff! So I gave her my card and she said she would call me to order some prints. Hmm – a coincidence leads to another coincidence, then to another…
Signposts. Take note when you see them coming, slow down to read them when you are there, and take that information with you to help you navigate along the journey…
The mother lifts the boy from his small bed. His fever is rising quickly. Tossing his head furiously side to side, he moans in a weak voice:
"Mother, mother, please help me, help me.
Mother, I see only darkness now. Save me from the darkness.
I am afraid. Please do not leave me alone mother. Please do not leave me..."
She rushes through the wooden doors of the kitchen. . Her long petticoat floats behind her gracefully as she struggles to keep her balance, running through the lush green meadow with the limp child in her arms - his body gracefully draped like a velvet curtain to her chest.
(Begin the Stabat Mater first movement - Duet)
Stabat Mater dolorosa, iuxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius
At, the Cross, her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last.
She is rushing towards the small pond - hoping that the water might bring his fever down. Ankle deep she wades through tall grass and bogs, bending down slowly, carefully. His loose arms and legs skim the top of the water. She bends down on her knees and immerses his whole body, keeping his head buoyant in her arms. Their clothes float effortlessly around them. Taking water with her hand, she sprinkles it over his face, and pushes back his now matted hair. Her weeping voice echoes off the pond, filling the summer air.
She whispers into her son's ear, tries to evoke a response from him, takes his fragile arm and lifts it to her face, kissing his tiny hand. The rain begins to fall gently on their already soaked skin and clothes.
In the distance, the father slowly walks to the door and pauses. His eyes are heavy, but are filled with a sad yet resigned stare, a resignation deep within.
As the rain begins to fall harder, the mother tries desperately to revive her now quickly dying child. Her clothes begin to weigh heavy on her body. Strands of wet hair cling to her bare neck and flushed cheeks.
The two sisters are seen running through the house and to the back door. They look into the distance with fear and trepidation. The father stands between them – his thick arms holding each one back. In between tears and shouts, their bodies slowly become limp as they begin to weep helplessly, knowing that there is nothing more that can be done to save their brother and that their mother must now too realize this herself.
The rain beats down furiously on the mother and the child in her arms. She looks at his sullen face, begging him for one last breath, one last look into her eyes.
Barely moving his tiny lips, he whispers:
"I am not afraid anymore mother…"
His eyes close slowly.
The mother lowers her head. Her body begins to shake as she beings to cry louder and harder. She lifts his lifeless body out of the water and rests his head and shoulders over her bent knee. Looking up to the sky, her tears and rain stream down her face as she begins to scream.
(Phew! Shit that was long!!)
So anyway –that is the scene in my movie set in the 17th century – a co-production with France and Italy and Canada about a young girl who wants to be a singer but cant because she is a girl… Bla bla bla.
But back to the original train of thought here – the recital was beautiful, and it was kinda spiritually cleansing, rejuvenation type of thing. Maybe it was peace – that is what I found there. Peace with myself and my vision for my ideas (movies). Oddly enough – I had my camera with me and took some pix. As I was leaving a girl came up to me and asked me what I do for a living. (I am a starving artist honey!!) She was all happy that I took photos of her work and art direction because she was so worried about this evening that she forgot to bring a camera to take photos of her stuff! So I gave her my card and she said she would call me to order some prints. Hmm – a coincidence leads to another coincidence, then to another…
Signposts. Take note when you see them coming, slow down to read them when you are there, and take that information with you to help you navigate along the journey…
Saturday, November 13, 2004
This was taken at the Church where the Stabat Matar was performed - the girl who painted this huge mural (40x20 feet) actually came up to me at the end of the recital and wanted to know if I could sell her some photos becasuse she was too preocupied to bring a camera tonight. She was so grateful that I was there and captured her work...
Friday, November 12, 2004
Bare Beavers... "Did you see when..."
I just remembered a funny episode from "Curb Your enthusiasm" when Larry David gets a pube stuck in his throat and tries everything under the sun to get it out, the whole time making this horrible throaty "Khhhhhhhhrhrhrrrrrrkkkk' noise. He even goes to see a doctor to get it out... Funny as hell. A must see!
The episode is called: Mary, Joseph and Larry and is in the 2nd season...
Another memorable quote:
"Larry!! You ate the Baby Jesus and Mary!!"
"But I thought they were monkies - animal cookies!"
(or something like that)
The episode is called: Mary, Joseph and Larry and is in the 2nd season...
Another memorable quote:
"Larry!! You ate the Baby Jesus and Mary!!"
"But I thought they were monkies - animal cookies!"
(or something like that)
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Pergolesi and other strange coincidences...
Who would have thought! I start off this blog yesterday - mentioning about this 'oktohie' thing (which means life purpose in Japanese btw - if you need a frame of reference, read my bio), and I mention it today to a friend of mine while speaking about films (this quote came from a film that I saw at the MWFF last year) and also mentioned an idea for a film that I have on the back burner. It would have to be a co-production with either France or Italy cause I would need access to some of those grandiose theatres with those great velvet drapes, and also the rolling lush green landscapes of Provence, SOOOO - I mention this idea which takes place in the 17-1800, and I explain in detail about this death scene. Kinda like the Pieta with Mary holding Jesus, (same context - mother and child) and she is out in the rain, weeping while her young son dies in her arms. Can you see it? Move over Merchant/Ivory! And the music I hear playing over it is the Stabat Mater by Pergolese. I can imagine the bridge of the first movement corresponding to her looking up to the skies, another crescendo introduces the movement of her hands brushing away the water from his face. Even now, I can hear the music... (insert MP3 here..) So would you not know it, all this talk about me finding my 'purpose in life' through me making movies, I get on the metro and I see one of those "metro newspapers' (whoever thought about that was a genius! No more glaring at other people during the morning commute to work -now you can hide your face in a metro mag!) and as I flip through, I see in the corner of my eye the little heading "Stabat Mater'. My heart skipped a beat. I mean there are so many "Stabat Mater's I mean I think Marylyn Manson must have done a death metal Goth version by now; so I scan this little 75 word blurb and low and behold - it is Pergolese!! And what is it? It is the whole composition being sung Saturday night at 8pm at a church quite literally a stone's throw from my place!! Thank God there are handrails on the escalators in the metro and they run kinda slow mo because I would have taken a nice long tumble. WHAT WERE THE CHANCES!?!?? C'mon! All you sceptics out there - I dare you to find an explanation to this one!! That was just too strange...
I am starting to believe more and more that sometimes there are little markers along the road to life that kinda say to you 'yea, you are going in the right direction - keep going". This is another one of those glorious moments...
Here is the linkamajig for the toon:
http://www.e-compil.fr/produit.jsp?section=0&axis=2&id=165
(an aside - this just in from my fave web psychic (http://www.cainer.com/) for tommorow and the weekend:
You feel as if you are only just coping. There is, though, all the difference in the world between "only just" and "not at all". Beethoven "only just" completed his ninth symphony. The allied forces "only just" managed to win World War Two. A success is a success no matter how narrow the margin. You may be tired, you may be struggling but you are on the right path. You are doing what needs to be done. And if you keep on going, you will reach your goal. That's all you need to remember this weekend.
Woa.. Well "Hail Mary in a handbag***' - that is some strange news...
Just in case you are in the area, here are the stats...
I will be there of course - this is just too creepy to miss...
Maybe I will meet the producer of this film during the intermission!?!?!
Stabat Mater by Pergolese
Pianist: Guy-Francois Morel
Soprano: Marie -Helene Anctil
Mez-Soprano: France Champagne
Baratone: Martin Boucher
8pm
Eglise Notre Dame du Rosaire
corner of St. Hubert and Villeray.
Metro Jarry, south on St. Hubert
*** That is my saying - I give you permission to use it only if you direct people to this blog...
I am starting to believe more and more that sometimes there are little markers along the road to life that kinda say to you 'yea, you are going in the right direction - keep going". This is another one of those glorious moments...
Here is the linkamajig for the toon:
http://www.e-compil.fr/produit.jsp?section=0&axis=2&id=165
(an aside - this just in from my fave web psychic (http://www.cainer.com/) for tommorow and the weekend:
You feel as if you are only just coping. There is, though, all the difference in the world between "only just" and "not at all". Beethoven "only just" completed his ninth symphony. The allied forces "only just" managed to win World War Two. A success is a success no matter how narrow the margin. You may be tired, you may be struggling but you are on the right path. You are doing what needs to be done. And if you keep on going, you will reach your goal. That's all you need to remember this weekend.
Woa.. Well "Hail Mary in a handbag***' - that is some strange news...
Just in case you are in the area, here are the stats...
I will be there of course - this is just too creepy to miss...
Maybe I will meet the producer of this film during the intermission!?!?!
Stabat Mater by Pergolese
Pianist: Guy-Francois Morel
Soprano: Marie -Helene Anctil
Mez-Soprano: France Champagne
Baratone: Martin Boucher
8pm
Eglise Notre Dame du Rosaire
corner of St. Hubert and Villeray.
Metro Jarry, south on St. Hubert
*** That is my saying - I give you permission to use it only if you direct people to this blog...
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
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